You think he’s yours,
You think your love,
Is something we all should wish for.
In reality,
He lays with me,
In the bed behind your door.
When you’re at work,
Or watching the kids,
You reckon he’s gone to the bar,
But he’s holding me,
Saying sweet nothings,
Things aren’t what you think they are.
For now he’s mine,
I know its wrong,
But don’t stop me from having fun.
One day you’ll leave,
And he will be free,
But that is when I will run.